


Cold Remedy

by shamusandstone (theleaveswant)



Category: Death Proof (2007)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Begging, Bondage, Community: kink_bingo, Dom/sub, F/F, Genital Torture, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Punishment, Teasing, Water
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-02
Updated: 2008-09-02
Packaged: 2017-10-22 03:24:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/233203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleaveswant/pseuds/shamusandstone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kim is sick of Zoë ignoring her instruction not to take unnecessary risks, and takes drastic action to get her attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Remedy

**Author's Note:**

> Unfortunately in the real world this would probably block the drain and cause the tub to overflow and be very dangerous for Zoë—good thing it's fiction, hey? Thanks to wilde_stallyn for the beta.

Kim was surprised to see Zoë's shoes kicked across the floor of the front hall when she got home from set; she'd expected first unit to run late today. She shucked off her own jacket and boots and trudged through to the kitchen.

“What the hell happened?” she asked when she saw Zoë on the floor with the first aid kit spread out in front of her, peering at the shredded skin under a patch of gauze that covered most of her outer forearm.

Zoë looked up at Kim's entrance and smiled brightly. There was another bandage on her chin and an uncovered scab on her cheekbone. “Hey babe. How was work?”

Kim dropped her backpack on the linoleum and raised an imperious hand. “Keep your 'hey babe' to yourself. I asked you what happened.”

“Rough landing at work, had a friendly chat with the tarmac. Nothing serious, I'm just checking the dressings. Stings like a bitch, though.”

“You had a rough landing.”

“Yeah, wire stunt. Planted a foot wrong and BAM, there's the floor.”

“Which foot did you plant wrong?”

“Left one, why?”

“The one you practically sprained on Thursday.”

“Yeah, that one. What's the look?” She indicated Kim's exasperated scowl.

“I told you to stay off that ankle. I told Jeannie to make you stay off it.”

“And I told her not to worry about it. What are you so pissed for?”

“I'm pissed because I've told you a hundred times not to go to work injured, because when you do you hurt yourself worse—we worked that out, remember? Sixty percent of your stunt-related injuries are the result of already having injuries? And what did you do, you went to work injured, and you hurt yourself worse!”

“Oh sugar, please don't be mad. You were right, okay? I thought the ankle could take it. I was wrong. It's all my fault. Happy? Tell me 'I told you so', but don't give me that look.”

Kim held the glare for another minute, then sighed. The released tension shrank her like air leaving a balloon. “Come here,” she said. “Let me clean it out properly.”

“Help me up?” Zoë invited, gathering up the first aid supplies with one hand and holding the other out for Kim to take and pull her to her feet. Together they limped towards the bathroom, pausing briefly so Kim could retrieve and covertly pocket a plastic bag from her backpack.

In the bathroom, Zoë sat on the edge of the tub while Kim ran the bath and helped her undress. She inspected the wounds: ugly but superficial. Few looked likely to scar, given proper care.

Zoë sank into the warm water, purring contentedly as Kim sponged her back. “Mmm. You do take good care of me, don't you, Kim?”

“Damn skippy I do.” She lifted Zoë's hair out of the way to wash her neck and behind her ears. She chose a new bar of citrus-smelling soap from the basket on the window ledge and lathered her hands, running them gently over her lover's body. Zoë wallowed in the tender treatment, obediently offering her limbs for washing and, apart from a few silly faces, stoically endured the sting of soap on her fresh scrapes without protest.

“Feeling better now?” Zoë nodded affirmation, smiling innocently. “Good,” Kim said, and pushed her down into the water.

The tub was filled only shallowly, so although the initial splashing of her sudden descent and startled thrashing drove enough water over her face to make her sputter, she could keep her nose and mouth clear of the surface easily enough that she was at very little risk of drowning.

“What--” she coughed as Kim grabbed her arms and pulled them towards her feet. She pinned Zoë's wrists with one hand while she lifted her legs out of the way, maneuvering so her ass was flush with the drain end of the tub. Zoë writhed in protest, splashing water over the sides and soaking Kim's jeans and t-shirt while the smaller woman pulled something from her back pocket: a bag of plastic zip-ties.

“You mother _fucker_!” Zoë objected as Kim efficiently cuffed her wrists together around the vertical pipe leading to the showerhead above.

Zoë kicked her feet, trying to fight back, but between the angle and her injured foot she couldn't do much, so when Kim said “Settle down” she did, glaring up and blinking the stinging water out of her eyes. Between the stretch on her arms and the need to keep her face above water her back was forced into a curled position, her hips tilted slightly upwards.

Content that Zoë would not try anything (or nothing that couldn't be handled with a swift reprimand; in this position Kim had her well under heel), Kim returned to her position crouching by Zoë's knees. She turned on the faucet, cupping her fingers beneath it to deflect the water while she set the temperature to a few degrees warmer than skin. She moved her hand away, allowing the warm water to run straight down onto Zoë's exposed cunt. The sudden sensation made Zoë twitch like an electric shock.

“Since apparently 'don't work when you're hurt' wasn't clear enough for you the first hundred times, I'm going to tell you again, and this time I'm going to make damned sure you listen.” Kim spoke softly, soothingly; Zoë's breath went shallow. She looked more terrified than aroused. Her terror proved well-founded as with a sweet, smug smile, Kim shut off the hot water.

It took a couple of seconds for the flow to chill, but once it did Zoë screamed at the barrage of ice water assaulting her clit. She cursed and squirmed, churning the bath to a froth, but couldn't wriggle far enough in any direction to keep the sensitive flesh out of the path of the water.

Kim laughed gleefully. “How's that, bitch? That penetrating your thick skull?”

“Yes!” Zoë pounded her feet on the bathroom wall, but could find no relief. “I'm listening! For god's sake, Kim, make it stop!”

“I'm sorry, I can't hear you over the tap. You want it to stop?”

“Yes!”

“Then what do you say?”

“Please!”

“What else?”

“Please, Mistress?” she guessed.

“What will you never do from now on?”

“I'll never disobey your instruction not to go to work injured!”

“Never?”

“Not ever, just please, turn the bloody water off!” Zoë screwed her eyes shut and tried to breath through the pain.

“And what will you always do from now on?”

“I'll always kick the shit out of you when I get out of here if you don't shut it off right now! Dammit, my cooch is about to freeze right _off!_ ”

Kim sucked her lip. Good enough. She reached for the tap, but instead of turning the flow off entirely she reintroduced the hot.

Zoë tried to collapse on the porcelain and pant with relief, but there was still a steady flow of water streaming onto her clit, and even if the cold numbed her nethers somewhat, she couldn't be numb enough not to notice _that_. In fact, she shuddered and started shifting her hips again, but this time it was to adjust her angle so that the the water hit her _just right_.

Kim watched Zoë get worked up, go slack-jawed and moaning, twisting her fingers around the plumbing. Just as her toes were beginning to curl and her abs quiver with building tension, she clapped her hand over the faucet's mouth.

Zoë whimpered in frustration. “What--”

“Oh, I'm sorry. Were you enjoying that?” Kim parted her fingers enough to release a thin, wavering trickle. “Do you want me to stop interfering and let you come? Maybe even help you out?”

“Yes,” Zoë hissed, eyes closed. “Please.”

“Say it.”

“Please, Kim, I want it so bad. Please let me come.”

“Hmm . . .” Kim opened and closed her fingers, freeing the water in splashing bursts. She would very much like to give Zoë what she wanted, would like to watch her shake and bite her lip. But on the other hand, if she kept on mixing punishment and reward, how was Zoë ever going to learn?

She shut off the tap and pulled the plug.


End file.
